


Far From Here

by LeannieBananie



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Angst, Desk Sex, F/M, Married Sex, Pregnant Sex, Wishful Thinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 07:49:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14564373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeannieBananie/pseuds/LeannieBananie
Summary: “John, we can’t. Not here, anyone might walk in.”





	Far From Here

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos & comments keep writers motivated! Leave 'em if you liked it.

Esme pulled herself to feet as fast as she could when she heard the shop door bang open, grabbing a stack of papers to make it look like she’d been hard at work. When John’s smirking face rounded the corner, toothpick wiggling between his lips she heaved a sigh and dropped ungracefully back into her rickety chair, absently rubbing her rounded belly. This pregnancy was wearing on her, making her tired and angrier than normal. Her feet ached, her ankles were swollen, and her back felt about bent in half from the weight of her stomach. She’d been told it meant a girl and Esme almost hoped it was. A little girl with John’s full lips and blue eyes and her wild mop of hair, not another little boy to be lost to the Shelby family. 

“You look tired Esme love. Why don’t you go home?” John asked softly, pulling her from her dour thoughts by squatting on his heels in front of her and catching her cool hands in his warm ones. She smiled wanly, freeing a hand to cup his cheek, stroking her thumb over the rough catch of his stubble, her smile growing when he tilted his chin into her caress. 

“I wanted to finish up the count. Why are you here?” Esme didn’t add that she’d been done an hour ago and hadn’t worked up the energy to go home. She loved their children, all of them, they helped her forget that she lived a stationary life surrounded by walls and a roof but going home meant no rest until they were all tucked up in their little beds. And even that was no guarantee of peace. 

“Meeting Tommy. He’s late of course.” It was hard to focus on his words when he hummed softly and slid his big hands over her knees, fingers stroking her through the rough fabric of her dress. She pushed his hands away when she felt the faint flicker of heat surge forward, licking up her legs, making her skin tingle dangerously. She’d been near insatiable this time around and John knew it and he loved taking advantage, teasing and torturing until she was begging or until she threw him to the floor and rode him to completion in their parlor. 

“John, we can’t. Not here, anyone might walk in.” She protested weakly, already aching between her legs. John ignored her and roughly yanked her dress up around her waist, her traitorous body giving a hot throb from the intensity of his glare. 

“I’m a fucking Shelby.” He growled, pulled her bottom to the edge of the chair and shoving her legs apart, swiftly tugging her knickers down over her shoes and stuffing them into his jacket pocket. He paused to kiss the swell of her belly before settling between her knees, his broad shoulders pushing them even further apart. “I do whatever the fuck I want and besides, I know you want it Esme. You always do when you’re carrying.” What would have been a reprimand came out a strangled moan, her head falling backing when he trailed his fingers along her core without warning. 

“Oh, fuck John.” She muttered, clutching at the seat of the chair as he stroked her swollen flesh firmly, teasing her until she quivered against him, twisting her hips and urging his hand just a little higher. “John!” She panted, glaring down at him as he laughed up at her, finally giving in and sliding his thumb across her aching bud. Esme keened and bucked her hips, caught up in a strong wave of hunger that crashed over her, making her entire body flush as she rocked against his hand. She felt reckless, skirt rucked around her waist, exposed to the air, John’s hand buried between her thighs and she loved it. 

Loved _him_.

“John, please.” 

He answered her plea by plunging two fingers deep into her heat, uttering a harsh groan when her flesh rippled around the exquisite intrusion. She sobbed at the quick, practiced twist of his wrist, fingers curving to stroke that secret place inside of her, making her thighs tremble as she arched against the wobbly back of the chair, threatening to topple it over with her writhing. 

The sinful pressure building low in her abdomen was deliciously overwhelming and she reveled in the sharp thrill that shot through her limbs, the way her extra sensitive nipples rubbed roughly against her dress; all of it sending her a little higher, pushing her a little closer to her completion. Desperate and eager, she urged John on, murmuring her pleasure and hurriedly kicking off a shoe to rub her stockinged foot over the hard ridge of his prick, making his hand stutter against her flesh. 

“Jesus Esme,” He swore, pulling his hand free from between her thighs, making her wail in displeasure. “C’mere. I’ve got you, I swear.” He promised, his voice thick and needy, hands desperate as he gripped her thighs and lifted her easily, making her clutch at his shoulders before he dropped her carefully on the desk. When he stepped back between her legs, he pressed his length into her core, making her rock against him, hooking her thighs around his waist as her mouth met his in a furious clash of tongue and teeth. It was messy, their tongues sliding together as his hands dug into the lush flesh of her hips, both of them a little frantic and demanding, realizing Tommy could walk in at any second. 

Esme dropped her head onto John’s shoulder as her fingers worked at the buttons of his trousers, leaning to the side so he could press wet, open mouthed kisses along the line of her neck, hissing when he raked his teeth across her racing pulse. When she finally freed his length, he pushed her back, taking charge and rucking one of her pale legs higher on his hip, holding it there as he swiftly pushed into her. 

She keened embarrassingly loud, dropping her forehead to his shoulder and biting the thick material of his jacket as he pulled his hips away before thrusting home swiftly. 

“Fuck Esme let me hear you.” He groaned, one hand tangled in her hair tugging it slightly urging her to tip her head back. She obliged him with a guttural whine, her body going lax as he fucked himself into her, wild and a little feral as his hips slammed against hers. 

“John, John.” She chanted, lost in sure press of his length inside her, the wave of fire course through her, building with each slide of their bodies, making her squirm and shake and curl her toes. When John’s fingers left her hip and slipped between them, deftly rubbing at her core that wave exploded across her skin, making her cry out hoarsely and convulse around him, pulling him into his own pleasure. He came with a final jerk and a shout, twitching as he collapsed on top of her. They were both breathing heavily, and Esme was damp with sweat, but content to relax with his heavy weight on her. 

She loved this part, the calm after the frantic passion. Loved to card her fingers through his hair and feel like for just one moment, it really was just the two of them. That they were far from here, living somewhere green and fresh with more chickens and children than they could count. Esme smiled faintly at that image, chuckling softly. 

“Wha’s so funny then?” John slurred, propping himself up on one elbow. She started to tell him, when the door banged out. She flinched, and John leapt back with a low curse, tucking himself in while she slid off the desk and pulled down her dress. It was Tommy, barking orders and yelling for John, scattering her fanciful thoughts like the dust that Thomas Shelby left in his wake. Maybe one day they’d be free of this life, if it didn’t kill them first.


End file.
